Chapter 3
1395 Words
“What did you call me?” His voice was deceptively soft, laced with warning. “Say it again.”
For years, even after their forced mating, Bella had carefully called him “Alpha” or “Brother Damien” in private, clinging to the remnants of their old bond. Tonight was the first time she had uttered his full name like a stranger.
Bella met his cold, piercing gaze. Her pale lips trembled, but her voice came out clear and resolute. “I said, Damien Blackwood, let’s get a divorce.”
The moment the words left her mouth, her vision blurred. In one fluid, powerful motion, Damien hauled her across the back seat and flipped her face-down over his lap. Two sharp, resounding smacks landed hard on her backside.
Bella froze in disbelief, shame and indignation exploding through her. “Let me go! Damien, you bastard! How dare you—”
Slap! Slap!
The strikes were merciless, each one harder than the last. Pain bloomed across her skin, a humiliating reminder of the last time he had disciplined her years ago—when she was fifteen and had bound her developing chest too tightly out of dance-related insecurity. He had dragged her to the study and spanked her until she couldn’t sit properly for days.
But she wasn’t his little sister anymore. She was his mate—his unwanted wife.
“Damien Blackwood, will shake some senses into that head of yours before you speak!” His deep growl vibrated above her. “Do you think mating and divorce are games you can play with?”
He demanded again, voice thunderous, “Where is the earring?!”
Bella stubbornly refused to answer. “It’s gone! Aren’t you hearing enough now that you’re getting older?!”
“Fine, Isabella. You’d better pray I don’t find it.”
With a snarl, Damien pulled her upright, pinning her wrists behind her back with one iron hand. He leaned over her, forcing her down against the leather seat. His free hand roamed over her thin chiffon dress, sliding from the neckline downward in a slow, deliberate exploration that felt far more like humiliating possession than any search.
Who would hide an earring there? Bella let out a high-pitched whimper. “Ah… it’s not on me! Stop touching me—let go!”
Her resistance only fueled his fury. The sound of fabric tearing filled the car as Damien ripped her dress open from the neckline all the way to her navel. Bella’s face paled.
“This is on the road!” she gasped, frantically trying to cover herself.
He kept ripping her dress, Two more savage tears, and the dress was reduced to useless rags. Before she could process the exposure, Damien lifted her and straddled her directly onto his lap, her snow-white back bared to the cool night air streaming through the cracked window.
“You’re insane!” Bella struggled, but his strength was overwhelming.
“So what if I refuse to give you a pup? Is this all you’re throwing a tantrum about?” he hissed, voice dark with restrained rut-lust.
Cars could pass by at any moment. Anyone glancing inside would see the disgraced Luna sitting provocatively astride the Alpha King. The pack already whispered that she was a wanton she-wolf who had schemed her way into her brother’s bed at eighteen.
Shame burned through Bella like wildfire. She shook her head weakly. “It’s not about a pup! I already told you—I didn’t tamper with anything!”
The unmistakable sound of his belt and trousers unzipping echoed in the confined space. Bella’s eyes widened in panic. She pounded against his chest with her hands and feet, fighting desperately.
“Let me go! You bastard!”
She kicked out with her right foot, but Damien caught her ankle in a vice-like grip. His voice carried a feral edge. “You don’t want this foot anymore? You still want to dance, don’t you? Didn’t you beg for my heir before? I’m giving it to you now, and suddenly you refuse?”
The pain in her injured foot was nothing compared to the agony tearing through her heart. After their mating, he had avoided her bed and refused to complete their bond or give her pups. Now he was willing? Probably because he had learned of Elias’s condition tonight. It only made everything worse.
“Yes, I wanted a child before,” Bella spat, eyes blazing through tears. “But now I’m unwilling. I refuse. I’m still young—why would I be foolish enough to have a child with a cold-hearted wolf like you? I’m not playing tricks. I just want a divorce!”
A harsh, mocking laugh escaped him. “Divorce? You schemed your way into this position, discarded my gift, and now you dare threaten me? Don’t forget how you became Luna. You don’t have the right to speak of divorce.”
He gripped her chin hard, veins bulging on his forehead “Take it back. Now.”
“How about I spit in your face and then take it back?” Bella stared at him defiantly.
Distant headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating her pale, nearly naked body. Horror flooded her. She tried to curl into herself, but Damien held her shoulder firmly in place, forcing her to endure the exposure as the lights grew brighter.
Trembling, Bella broke. “Alpha… I was wrong!”
The next second, Damien grabbed a soft travel blanket and wrapped it haphazardly around her. Bella scrambled off his lap in a frantic rush.
He let her retreat, picking up the torn remnants of her dress and shaking them out. Of course, no earring fell. His expression darkened further—he now believed she had truly thrown it away.
“You’ve grown quite the spine, Isabella Ashford. Throw your tantrums, but know your limits!”
The ancestral earrings held deep meaning. That she would discard them over a “trivial” fight and demand divorce enraged him.
Damien straightened his clothes, moved to the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. The car roared back toward the villa in heavy silence.
Bella curled into the corner, pressing her lips together tightly to hold back sobs. He didn’t love her. He didn’t trust her. He would never see her pain.
Even now, he thought she was just being dramatic. He had no idea what courage it had taken her to throw away that earring.
Back at the villa, the lights were dim and empty—Aunt Mara was still at the healing center. Damien carried Bella upstairs, blanket and all, straight into the master bathroom.
Water rushed from the faucet. Bella lifted her head weakly. “What are you doing?”
“Not pretending to be dead anymore?” Damien ripped the blanket away and lowered her directly into the shallow, cool bath. Her right leg draped awkwardly over the edge, forcing her into a humiliating, exposed position.
She tried to pull it back, but he pressed her knee down firmly.
“I have no interest in foolish she-wolves who court death. Soak in the warm water before I tend your wounds. Keep that foot dry.” With that, he left without another word.
As the water gradually warmed, Bella slumped against the tub, utterly exhausted. On the terrace outside, Damien loosened his tie, lit a cigarette, and made a low call. “Track the taxi, Isabella was earlier. That earrings means a lot to me. Retrieve ASAP.”
In the hospital earlier, she had still been wearing them. It wouldn’t be hard to find. Later, when Bella limped out wrapped in a bathrobe, Damien was on the edge of the bed, phone to his ear. “Rest well. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
Bella lowered her lashes and headed for the sofa.
At two in the morning, Serena still had the energy to keep him on the phone. How convenient.
Before she could reach the sofa, Damien scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. She scrambled up angrily, but a sudden wave of nausea hit her. She rushed to the bedside and retched.
Damien was there instantly, patting her back and handing her a tissue, then a glass of water.
Bella had barely taken a sip when he asked coldly, “Are you pregnant?”
- Writer
